


Just kissing

by tall_wolf_of_tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - World War I, Canonical death for Dacey Mormont, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Idiots in Love, OR IS IT, PWP, Smut and Fluff, i'm sorry about that, in quasi-WWI background, little bit of angst too, this is part One but only if I write part Two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29081724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tall_wolf_of_tarth/pseuds/tall_wolf_of_tarth
Summary: Some smut in a quasi-World War I setting where Captain Lannister and ambulance driver Tarth spend some quality time away from the war.“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” says Captain Jaime Lannister and his eyes drop to Brienne's lips. “And take you for my lady and wife,” he finishes with a sudden tightness in his throat. The wench goes wonderfully pink before Jaime kisses her. Her lips are soft and she smells like soap, just the way Jaime remembers from their summers together.It was Jaime's idea, of course. To marry VMD Brienne Tarth -- his childhood friend -- so they can spend their two-day holiday together. Or rather, to buy a fake marriage certificate from that vagabond who pretends to be a Septon so they can check into an expensive hotel together and rest, away from the horrors at the Front. The fake Septon had insisted on binding their hands and saying the words, but the paper looks real enough when he stamps it and hands it to Jaime. Jaime stuffs the certificate to his pocket, pays the man and goes to Brienne who is waiting by the door of the half-collapsed sept.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 34
Kudos: 195
Collections: Jaime x Brienne January Madness





	Just kissing

**Author's Note:**

> warning: Canonical character death for Dacey Mormont (happens off-screen)  
> VMD = Volunteer Medical Driver
> 
> Thank you for tremendous help I got from [Virareve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virareve/pseuds/Virareve), [EmpressM](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmpressM/pseuds/EmpressM) and [Prettythief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyThief/pseuds/PrettyThief) with this fic!!! I appreciate you so much.

_A few weeks before_

“Have you decided what you are going to do on your holiday?” Dacey Mormont wipes the mud off her hands and stands back when Brienne starts tightening the bolts on the wheel they replaced on the ambulance truck that Brienne drove back from the Front.

Brienne shakes her head.

“And your dashing Captain Lannister doesn’t have any ideas?”

Brienne looks up to Dacey who is digging in her huge pockets. Regardless of the grin on Dacey’s face, she still looks exhausted, and her shift hasn’t even started yet. Brienne herself feels almost dead on her feet. The drive she just returned from was hard. Two boys had died on the way from the dressing station to the field hospital.

“Indeed, he is not my Captain Lannister. Don’t tease me.”

Dacey rolls her eyes, but with good nature. “Have you seen how the man looks at you, Brienne?”

Brienne feels her face burning. Hopefully the gray winter light would hide her flush.

“But he has ideas?” Dacey puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. “Remind me, how did your Captain Lannister manage to arrange that he has time off at the exact same time as you?”

Brienne tightens the last bolt and stands up. The distant rumble from the front seems to be louder than ever before. She takes the cigarette from Dacey’s hand and takes a drag. They would be punished by the White Cross Septas if caught smoking, but squeezed between the ambulances they are relatively well hidden from prying eyes.

“Do you really think he arranged it?” Brienne gives the cigarette back to Dacey and exhales. She needs to talk about Jaime’s suggestion with someone, and Dacey is the only one here she trusts. They came to the Front together, have worked side by side and slept in the cots next to each other for the last twelve months. Brienne knows about Dacey’s affair with a married Captain and Dacey knows about the bet that those sergeants had made about Brienne. The only person Brienne trusts more than Dacey is Jaime, and she can’t talk about her plans with him. Not yet, at least.

“Jaime said…” Brienne starts and stops. She looks away from Dacey, to check if anyone is coming this way. No one is, so she continues.

“Jaime has a room arranged,” she whispers quickly. Dacey’s smirk grews wider and Brienne sighs with frustration. “Just so that we can have a rest. In a real bed.” She takes the cigarette from Dacey. “It’s a hotel at Highgarden.”

“They’re going to ask for a marriage certificate,” Dacey nods. “Stokesworth will know where to get a fake one, I’m sure.”

The girls stand next to each other, passing the cigarette front and back until it's almost gone. Dacey needs to go soon, to pick up supplies and drive them to the dressing station at the Front. “You should go with him,” she says and throws the cigarette butt to the mud that covers the ground. “It’s better than wasting time here.”

“It’s risky,” Brienne closes her eyes. She is too exhausted to think.

“Everything here is risky, we might not be alive next week. Go and have fun with your friend.”

“It’s not like that,” Brienne tries to argue. “He said that we would eat a decent meal and sleep in a real bed. Jaime doesn’t think of me like that.”

“Brienne,” Dacey’s voice is full of affection and Brienne opens her eyes. “The question is, would you?”

“Would I what?”

Dacey leans closer to Brienne. “Would you fuck your pretty Captain in a posh hotel at Highgarden?”

Brienne feels her face burning and a giggle escapes from her before she smothers it away.

“We have work to do, Dacey.”

Brienne pushes away from the ambulance and starts preparing for Dacey’s drive. They finish up changing the tyre and Dacey doesn’t talk about Jaime Lannister or sex again until the truck is ready for Dacey to go another trip to pick up more wounded boys and bring them to the field hospital.

Brienne watches her friend start the truck and climb into it. “Be careful,” she tells Dacey before the other woman drives away.

“Tell him yes,” Dacey shouts back from the window before turning away from the yard.

Brienne silently prays for the Crone to guide Dacey in the night back to safety and starts walking back to the tent where she sleeps. She has lost so many people to the war already. Gal, who was first one to enlist was also among the first casualties. She misses Catelyn Stark and her son Robb who both perished from influenza, she misses Renly who died from mustard gas, and sometimes she even misses that medic, Dick Crabb, who blew to pieces in a bright daylight right next to Brienne’s ambulance.

The war is a completely different universe, she thinks while walking to her tent. Jaime Lannister, who spent several summers sending sharp barbs and even sharper smiles towards awkward and shy Brienne, now seeks her out in the engine yards and shadowed corners. Before the war words flew out of Jaime with a constant stream, but here he just turns his green eyes to Brienne silently.

 _Talk to me, VMD Tarth_ , he says and wraps his fingers around Brienne’s hand. Brienne traces the ridges of his scars with her thumb while she tells him about her father’s latest letter or anything else.

He always kisses her fingers before returning to his station.

When Brienne climbs into her cot later, she keeps thinking about Jaime’s request and what it might mean. She is not innocent enough not to understand that sleeping in the same room will likely lead to other, not so innocent activities.

_Do you want to?_

Dacey is at least ten years older than Brienne and much worldlier. She keeps a box with moon pills among her things, she showed Brienne in case her things need to be sent back to her.

 _Tomorrow I’ll ask Dacey about them,_ is Brienne’s last thought before falling asleep.

***

_Now_

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” says Captain Jaime Lannister and his eyes drop to Brienne's lips. “And take you for my lady and wife,” he finishes with a sudden tightness in his throat. The wench goes wonderfully pink before Jaime kisses her. Her lips are soft and she smells like soap, just the way Jaime remembers from their summers together.

It was Jaime's idea, of course. To marry VMD Brienne Tarth -- his childhood friend -- so they can spend their two-day holiday together. Or rather, to buy a fake marriage certificate from that vagabond who pretends to be a septon so they can check into an expensive hotel together and rest, away from the horrors at the Front. The fake septon had insisted on binding their hands and saying the words, but the paper looks real enough when he stamps it and hands it to Jaime. Jaime stuffs the certificate to his pocket, pays the man and goes to Brienne who is waiting by the door of the half-collapsed sept, petting a huge, shaggy dog.

They wait for Peck to pick them up, but all that Jaime can think of is how soft Brienne's lips were and how much he wants to kiss her again. The idea is odd, because until now he hadn't thought about kissing his tall and ugly friend at all. He tries to listen for the engine of Peck's car but all he can hear is the sound of the Front, the distant rumble of the artillery and bombs exploding. It's miles away but the sounds are ever present. Tyrion wrote in one of his letters that sometimes the noise can be heard even in King's Landing, all the way across the Reach. The Front is now stretching across the southern ends of Reach, starting with bombed down Oldtown and ends somewhere near Yronwood. The Great War, like they call it in the papers, has continued for three years now and the end is nowhere in sight.

Jaime turns to his pretend bride. Brienne stands in her civvies, wearing the most boring hat in the Seven kingdoms and is looking worried. She is fiddling with the white ribbon in her gloved hands. “We could have taken the train, Jaime,” she says again, and he would argue again with her, but he can't stop thinking about how soft her lips were in the dilapidated sept and how she had sighed quietly when he had pulled away.

Jaime can't see the car or Peck, and he can't see anyone else in the street either, so he pulls Brienne back to the shadows of the ruins. Brienne's eyes go wide with surprise when he kisses her again. She lets him, even chases his lips for a small moment, but then pushes him back. “Jaime, we can't be seen like that.” Regardless of her resolute words she can’t hide the small smile on her lips that lingers there even when she scolds her or the way she touches her lips with her gloved fingers afterwards.

 _So what if we are seen,_ Jaime wants to say, but it will be her who will be punished if they are caught kissing on the street. White Cross Sisters expect their volunteers to behave like Septas. They are not allowed to meet men, not even their childhood friends, and if seen kissing, Brienne will surely lose her precious holiday and probably other small benefits that the girls working at the hospital are allowed.

He doesn't kiss her again on the street, and soon enough Peck arrives with the car.

“Good morning, VMD Tarth. Good morning, Captain Lannister!” the boy greets them, ever polite, and lifts Brienne's small bag into the car and opens the car door for them. Peck is not one to gossip, so as soon as the buildings of Nightsong change to the fields outside the town, Jaime turns to Brienne and kisses her again. The colour on her cheeks and nose reminds Jaime the poofy sweets in the cake shop windows, all creamy and blush.

“In Highgarden, we will only eat cake and drink fizzy wine, wench.”

“We will only eat sweets and sleep.” She smiles. She deserves to have a holiday, to sleep in a soft bed and eat cake.

“I'll ask the font desk for delivery.” The pink on her cheeks goes deeper. She has put away the horrid hat and her gloves, and Jaime takes her hand in his. Two days of holiday, spent in the expensive hotel room and not thinking about the war. He lifts her hand and kisses her fingers.

Before the war, he saw her every summer and they hated each other with passion. When Jaime saw her for the first time at the Front, climbing out of an ambulance in her VMD uniform, he had nearly wept with joy. Brienne Tarth meant summer. She reminds Jaime of the smell of grass, the birdsong in the sunset, the sound that oars make when you row a boat.

Spending their leave together makes sense. Fake-marrying so they can stay in the same hotel room makes sense. The war is ever-consuming and next week they might be dead. Most likely they _will_ be dead before the year ends. Everyone around them has died already, so why shouldn't Jaime and Brienne live, if only for a few days?

Brienne had laughed at him when Jaime first suggested it -- _You can finally sleep in a real bed again and we’ll only eat cake, Brienne_ \-- but when Dacey Mormont didn't return from her trip to the Front the next day, Brienne had sent a note with just one word scribbled on it.

“Yes.”

The idea was to eat, drink wine and sleep but when they arrive at Highgarden, cake and sleep are far from Jaime's mind. Brienne's lips are red and swollen with the kisses she has given him on the way here, and Jaime has suddenly more ideas how to spend time with his friend in a hotel room.

He shouldn't think things like that, he reminds himself. Brienne is a high-born maid, and Jaime didn't invite her to the room to take advantage of her. But there is no harm in kissing, he thinks. Kissing is innocent, it will not ruin her no matter what the shrivelled septas teach.

When Peck steers the car into the winding streets of Highgarden, Brienne gets pulled to look at the streets of the city. Her ugly hat is in her head again, like a helmet to guard against Jaime’s attacks.

The attacks that are not wholly unwelcome, Jaime thinks, because Brienne’s laugh is soft when she notices his sulking. “Later,” she says and sneaks her hand into his. Her thumb traces over the scar on his hand and when she sees the Lefford Tower, she squeezes it gently. Jaime made sure that their room would have a view of the famous tower, even if it's not lighted during the war.

***

As soon as the bellhop closes the door behind him, Jaime throws his coat on the armchair and marches to Brienne. Thankfully she has taken off her ghastly hat and is just hanging up her coat when Jaime reaches her. She makes a small yelp when he wraps his arm around her but when he kisses her sweet lips she melts into his embrace.

“What a fool I've been,” Jaime confesses when he finally lets go of her. “I've known you for ten years and only kissed you today.” Brienne smiles and touches her lips again. “I should have kissed you on the day we met.” She rolls her pretty eyes. It used to drive Jaime mad when she did that, but now he can't look away.

“I was twelve when we met. I would have punched you if you tried.”

“You did punch me,” Jaime laughs and plants another kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“No, I didn't -- not that day at least. I punched you later. When we were rowing.” She unbuttons her cardigan and sits on the bed.

She then groans in a way that makes all the blood in Jaime's head relocate to other, slightly embarrassing places. “This bed is so comfortable,” Brienne whimpers and drops to her back, feet still on the floor.

 _I shouldn't_ , thinks Jaime but his hands go to his coat to unbutton it. He discards it on a nearby chair. _I promised her that we would eat and rest_ , he thinks but he still sits next to her.

It's the damn bed that gets him. It's too fucking soft and nice, and Jaime groans and drops on his back next to Brienne. And then she is there, and her soft plump lips are still so pink so Jaime puts his arm around her belly and leans over her to kiss her.

This time, she opens her mouth.

This time, Jaime puts his tongue into her mouth.

 _I shouldn't,_ he thinks and pushes his hand under the waistband of her skirt. Brienne puts her hand to his face so he keeps kissing her.

 _We shouldn't,_ he thinks, _we shouldn't kiss like this on the bed._ The septon was an imposter and when the war ends she will regret this, he thinks, but he keeps kissing her sweet mouth and their tongues touch.

“What are we doing, Jaime?” Brienne sighs when Jaime runs out of breath and pulls away from her mouth to kiss the corners of her eyes.

“It's just kissing, Brienne,” Jaime whispers, tasting the sweet patch of skin between her ear and her hair. Brienne's fingers are buried in Jaime's hair and it feels like gentle summer wind.

It’s too sweet, too lovely, so Jaime forces himself to pull away and sit up. Brienne follows him. “This room is so nice and warm,” she sighs and leans her head against his shoulder. “It's so lovely here. Let’s never leave.” Jaime takes her hand into his and laces the fingers through hers.

“Your civvie clothes are awful,” he nudges her knee with his. Brienne laughs in surprise, and the sound makes Jaime grin. “You look like a northern schoolmarm. The kind that teaches gymnastics in all-girls school.”

“Idiot,” she pokes him with her elbow. “You know very well that that's exactly what I was before the war.”

“Take them off,” he looks at her and lifts his chin up in challenge but loses courage right away. “So we can have that nap we planned,” he tries to soften what he said.

There is a faint pink blush on her cheeks when she removes her cardigan and places it carefully on the bed next to her. She then bends down and unbuttons her ankle boots and puts them neatly under the bed.

“Are you going to nap in yours?” she eyes his boots, so Jaime pulls them off in a hurry and throws them to the floor. His hands are almost at his cravat when Brienne pushes them away and starts to undo the knot herself.

Brienne has fixed Jaime's cravat many times, but she has never undone it. All that Jaime can do is stare the blue of Brienne's eyes. When she pulls it away two pink spots appear high on her cheeks. She is lovely like this, Jaime thinks. All pink and blue and happy. When Brienne puts her hands on his face, the happiness inside Jaime overwhelms him. When she leans closer to kiss him, he unravels. Her nimble fingers undo the buttons of his tunic and pull it off him, but then she blushes furiously and pulls her hands away.

“Let’s nap,” she says and when the tips of her ears go all red Jaime knows that she is lying. She could never hide her lies from him. Her ears always go very red when she lies.

But now, Brienne stands up and starts unbuttoning her skirt. When it drops to the floor, Jaime can only stare in awe. She unbuttons her blouse next, undoes all those little pearl buttons one by one, looking at her fingers instead of him. Jaime gulps when she unbuttons the cuffs and takes off the blouse and stands in front of him, in her undergarments.

She is wearing a shift, stockings and whatever else the shift might cover. The shift is far too long to reveal anything, and like everything Brienne wears, it's boring, sturdy and immensely practical. Only pretty thing about it is a thin strip of lace that borders the top edge. “Aren't you coming?” she asks, her ears rosy when she moves her clothes from the bed to the chair. “I thought you promised me a nap.”

Jaime, still speechless, stands up to take off his woollen breeches and watches Brienne bend over to pull back the bedcovers. If they were really married, he would put his hand between her shoulders and slide it down on her spine to feel the muscles shifting and moving. If she was really his wife, he could pull off her shift and everything she has underneath it.

“Yes, I’d kill for a nap,” he climbs under the covers after her, his cock already half-hard. “Come,” he calls her and coaxes her until they are arranged on the bed, lying next to each other on their sides. “I want you next to me,” he whispers. They move and shift, finding out how to be comfortable when there is an extra body next to their own, but in the end they end up facing each other, Jaime’s arm under her head and Brienne’s knee between his.

“Can we kiss like this?” She nods, and they kiss like that, all tangled up together. Jaime is aching to press his cock against her.

“Brienne,” he sighs against her mouth while his fingers toy with the strap of her shift, “Can I touch you like this?”

“Yes,” she nods, breathless. Her own hands are busy sneaking into his undershirt.

Jaime explores the pale skin. He slides his fingers down her clavicle and traces the freckles just where her shift starts. He sneaks one finger under its strap and pulls -- just a little -- to see if there is another strap underneath it.

There is not.

Jaime slides his palm over her chest, thinking the naked skin under thin cotton. He moves his hand to her side, then down to the curve of her arse, over the clean white cotton until the shift ends at her knees with an ugly black stocking. The stocking is woollen, practical and warm, but hideous. It hides the skin Jaime wants to see and touch.

“I thought we were supposed to nap?” Brienne sounds breathless when Jaime's hand travels under the shift, but there is amusement in her voice and perhaps affection.

“It's just touching, Brienne.”

His own voice goes breathless when the stocking ends and warm skin starts.

It's too easy to find the buttons that fasten the stocking to the straps and undo them. And do it again to the other stocking.

Brienne is looking at him with her wide eyes and biting her lip when he pulls off the offending garments and drops them to the floor.

The skin revealed is pale, and Jaime lets his hand travel up from her ridiculously long legs to her knee where the shift starts. He is hungry for more, so he pushes the cloth up to reveal her thighs.

“Fuck, Brienne,” he groans. He wants to bend down to lick the creamy skin and the freckles dotting it. He desperately wants to know what's left under the shift. What is attached to the other ends of the straps that held the stockings. He is overwhelmed with want and need, to be close to Brienne, to touch her and feel her skin against his and to smell her and taste her.

His hand finds her thigh again.

He stops when his fingers slide across the scar on her thigh.

“Is that?” he turns towards her face.

“When we sneaked into the armory? Yes,” Brienne hums, and slides her thumb across his brow where Jaime carries his own memory from that event.

Jaime turns back to look at the white line on her pale skin.

“This is where I kissed you first.”

A giggle escapes from her mouth. “You only kissed me this morning. And... Not there.”

“Let me rectify that mistake immediately, VMD Tarth.”

She continues laughing when Jaime moves downward, eases her knees apart and kisses the scar. It's almost proper, as her too-long shift falls down and covers anything between her thighs. Brienne covers her face with her hands, still giggling. “That tickles.”

Affection surges through Jaime, and he goes up again to kiss her and pull her to his arms. They stay like that for a while, trading soft kisses until it gets heated again and Jaime’s hand fists around her shift.

The shift that is taunting him.

“Brienne,” he hears himself begging. “Brienne, let me take this off you.”

She freezes under him. She looks like a fawn in the headlights of a car.

“Shit,” Jaime groans and lets go of the fabric. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” she shakes her head vehemently. “I want to. It's just--” she turns her head away from him for a moment and when she turns back, she looks -- “I'm just... Scared.”

“Scared?” he doesn't believe what he hears. “Brienne Tarth, the bravest woman in Westeros, volunteer medical driver in the Great War, is scared?” he huffs with amusement.

“Shut it,” she groans and pushes him with her knee.

“You drive through the battle in that sardine can of yours, calm as toad in the sun, and this is what you are scared of? That I'd see your tits?”

His laughter makes her groan and she hides her face in the pillows. Affection surges through Jaime. “I've already seen your tits, remember?”

“I hate you so much right now,” she mumbles against his neck.

“I liked your tits,” he needles her more.

“You were maudlin with fever. I’m surprised that you remember anything at all.”

“Oh, I remember everything, Brienne.”

He lets his hands roam her body, and soon enough they are kissing again. This time, when he tugs the fabric she doesn't freeze. She sits up.

“Take _yours_ off first,” she commands with a voice that goes straight to Jaime's cock.

The path they are treading is dangerous, Jaime knows, but he pulls off his undershirt. She eyes his pants, but luckily for Jaime she doesn't command him to take those off. The situation that Jaime’s smallclothes is hiding would be even more obvious.

Then, without any fanfare, Brienne pulls off her shift and before Jaime can react, she unbuttons the garterbelt that held her stockings and throws both to the floor in a way quite unlike her. She bravely sits up, naked from the waist up and looks at him just as fiercely like she did on that one day by the river.

“Brienne,” Jaime groans. And then he has pushed her down to the mattress and his mouth is all over her. Over her sweet little tits, on the hard muscles under her belly button and on her side where she is ticklish. He closes his mouth around one of her pink nipples and Brienne whimpers when he sucks it.

“Oh, you like that, my sweet,” Jaime coos and does it again to her other nipple. It's just kissing, he tells himself. She will still be a maid in the morning if he only kisses her.

“Jaime, please,” she whimpers again, so he goes up again to kiss her sweet lips, his hand still playing with her nipple. Blinded by desire he slips his hand under her smallclothes and kneads her ass, until Brienne huffs with frustration and pulls off her knickers.

There is one more place he wants to touch, between her thighs. He pushes his hand between them.

“Sweetling,” he coos again, “open your legs a little so I can touch your cunt.”

“Jaime,” she squeaks and hides her face with her hands. “Do you have to be so coarse?”

He laughs, pulls away her hands to kiss the tip of her nose. “That's what it's called, sweetling. Cunt. Let me just touch you a little.”

She laughs out of embarrassment, but when he slides his hand between her thighs again, she opens her legs. Jaime watches her face while his hand moves, and she jumps when his fingers reach her cunt. Brienne hides her face again to the crook of his neck and her breath gets shakier when Jaime explores the folds with one finger. She is wet, so wet and hot.

He finds the little nub and touches it gently, and Brienne sighs. Then he travels his finger down, searching for the opening and when he finds it, he pushes inside the tightness. Just the tip of his finger, only until the first knuckle.

“Have you touched yourself like this, Brienne?” he asks, removes the finger and pushes it back again. “No,” she shakes her head, but when he pushes his finger deeper into her cunt, she lets out one very shaky _yes_. He wants to ask whose name is in her mind when she touches herself, but is afraid the answer isn't to his liking, so he bends down his head to mouth her breasts again. “It’s just touching, Brienne, there’s no harm in it.”

“Yes,” she sighs.

“Do you like this, sweetling?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over her nub and fucks her with his finger. Deeper and deeper it goes in, sinks into the warmth and makes her squirm and sigh. “Brienne, don’t be afraid, but I’m going to kiss you now,” he tells her, and the gasp she makes when he moves himself between her thighs burns into Jaimes soul. She makes more lovely noises when he kisses her cunt, trying to be quiet and failing when he suckles her lips and pushes two fingers into her.

It’s just kissing, he tells himself. Just kissing and touching.

Her breath is shaky and her hands in his hair are not gentle any more, so Jaime continues until her back lifts off the mattress and she peaks.

“Jaime, my Jaime,” she sighs to his ear while he holds her and pets her backside. She is embarrassed, maybe, as she hides her face, but her body is relaxed against his.

She squirms closer to him, their bodies touching and Jaime's throbbing cock between them. He is still wearing his smallclothes, only thin cotton separating his cock from the heat of her skin. It takes all his willpower to stop himself rutting against her like a green boy, but then Brienne's hand travels down from his chest and belly and lands on right where he is aching. She touches it through the fabric first, but soon she unbuttons his smallclothes and takes his cock to her hand.

“Gods, Brienne,” Jaime groans. It feels good. He shouldn't let her, he shouldn't corrupt her with his needs. He gently takes her hand to his and kisses it, kisses her mouth again, means to stop, but neither he or Brienne does. They squirm, move, and rut against each other. Brienne pushes his pants down his arse and puts her leg over his hip, and fuck, her cunt is right there near his cock.

Fuck.

He rolls her to her back.

Brienne is lying under him, her legs tangled with his.

“Brienne, my sweet,” he begs. “We shouldn't.” He nibbles her earlobe and she sighs. Her hands travel down his back, to his arse.

“I want to,” she entices him. Her tongue in his mouth is intoxicating. “It's just touching, Jaime,” she whispers against his ear.

He takes his cock into his hand and moves the tip of it against the seam of her cunt.

Just touching, there is no evil in touching, he thinks. The sweet wet heat of her lips feels heavenly.

The tip of his cock finds the place where his fingers were.

It's just touching, he thinks and takes away his hand.

They lie there like that, kissing. Him above her, their bodies not touching, only the tip of his cock against her cunt.

“Please,” she sighs to his mouth and Jaime moves his hips. Just a little. Just a fraction.

“I don't want to ruin you,” he sighs.

“Hush,” she says and her eyes are endless pools of blue. A man could drown in her eyes.

They are both breathless, almost not moving. Only breasts heaving, only Jaime's hips moving slightly.

“I'll just put the tip in,” he says, and he doesn’t think he is lying. “Only a little.”

“Yes,” Brienne sighs, she takes his face into her hands and kisses him, her tongue dancing against his. “I want to, “ she tells him and the words are the best he has ever heard. He pushes it in, just a little, then back, and just a little in.

He only fucks her with the tip of his cock, and it can't be bad when it feels so good, can it?

“Does it feel good, my sweet girl?” She sighs her yes to his mouth, and Jaime moves his hips a little faster, and maybe he sinks into her cunt just a little bit more, there can't be harm in that, if it's just a little. It gets somewhat hazy, and Brienne is so sweet, so pink and lovely under him, making quiet noises, so it's really hard to stop himself sinking deeper into her.

First time he sinks fully into her she makes a noise, a needy one, and Jaime pulls out, but not completely, he can't do that. “I want to, Jaime,” she groans and moves her hands to his butt. She wants to, he thinks, so he sinks into her again. She wants to, and so does he, so he retreats a little and pushes in again. And again.

Yes,” she groans, and her cunt feels wet and hot and tight around his cock and now they are really fucking.

“Fuck,” he says and slams his hips to her, “you feel so fucking good, my girl.” Their bodies move in sync in a lovely dance, him in the cradle of her legs, her mouth on his skin. “Jaime,” she cries now, because she has forgotten to be quiet. Her cunt tightens around him, and he is close, so close, he slams into her once, twice more before pulling out of her. He spills his seed on her belly, between them. A streak lands on her breast, and when Jaime collapses half on top of her he takes it into his hand, moving his thumb across her nipple.

***

“I didn't mean to ruin you,” he tells her. Her hand, moving through his hair stops, before continuing.

“You didn't ruin me. My honour is not in my cunt.”

Jaime laughs out of surprise but then groans. “I _have_ ruined you.”

“Jaime, if we are found out sharing the room it will be a scandal, regardless if we fucked or not. I knew this before I came here.”

“And still you came here.”

“Yes. Now stop worrying about my honour.” He looks at her, and when he sees her blue eyes looking at him, he can't resist kissing her.

“I need a wash,” she wrinkles her nose adorably to the stickiness on her belly when he pulls back. He kisses the tip of her nose and then bites it gently to make her laugh.

“I'll run you a bath,” he offers. “And then we can really nap.”

She hums a little sleepily. “Can we have cake too?”

“You can have all the cakes, sweetling.”

“I'd like that,” Brienne sighs and closes her eyes. “No more talks about ruining things.”

***

Before the sun sets, he has quite ruined her again. Once in the bath and twice on the bed.

“It’s been a lovely day,” Brienne sighs and stretches her long long limbs across the soft bed when Jaime comes back from the bathroom.

“What part did you love the best, my sweet? The cakes, or the bath or the nap? Or the sex?” The last part makes her blush.

“I liked the dog,” she smiles wickedly.

“What dog?”

“The dog that the fake septon had. He was adorable. His name was Dog.”

Jaime drops himself to the bed next to her. “Well, I liked the kissing part.”

“Just kissing?”

“All the kissing.”

“I liked that too, Jaime.”

When Jaime pulls Brienne to his arms to sleep, he keeps thinking about the ribbon that the fake septon tied around their hands. He would like to keep it, he thinks before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So… Can you guess who was the septon and do you think he was a fake septon or real? and do you think that Brienne and Jaime will get caught or not?
> 
> I’m currently writing a sequel to this where all these questions will be answered. It will be very different tonally so I will post it as a separate installment.


End file.
